The Art of Conversation
by Evanescence2189
Summary: A series of mostly humorous one-shots circling the Chronicles of Narnia characters. Latest: It is said that the poetry of a people comes from the deep recesses of the unconscious, the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories. One Queen is beginning to see the truth in it. Peter/OC
1. Argumentative

**Summary: A series of one-shots circling the Chronicles of Narnia characters. First up: a continuation of chapter nine in "The In Between Times," in which Peter flails in unusually hot water. **

_**Warning:**_** This collection will mostly include one-shots from the **_**Rising Above**_** universe, and the Peter/Alexa pairing. This first chapter is an example of which. **

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own Chronicles of Narnia or any of its characters.**

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><p><em>~The Art of Conversation~<em>

Chapter One: Argumentative

_The art of conversation is saying, "I feel differently," instead of saying, "you're wrong."_

"You did _what?_"

"Well, he's been training for two years now!"

"_And?_"

"Alexa, it's not fair to keep him waiting for so long."

"But…what if he gets hurt?"

"You can't keep coddling him forever, he's eight years old already."

"Cor and Corin only started their training at ten years of age. I think Garrett could be content with a wooden sword for a short time longer."

"Well, King Lune can raise his children how he wishes. I will raise my son according to what I think is appropriate."

"…I see your point, but Peter, letting a child handle steel? Couldn't he wait a couple more years?"

"But I already promised him. What would it look like to him if I took back my word? How do you think he will feel?"

"I know…but…" The Queen sighed heavily. "You couldn't have talked to me first before making this supposed 'deal' with him? Now I'm either going to look like the bad guy, or I'll always be afraid for him when the three of you go out to train."

"…I'm sorry, I realize I've put you in a bad position."

"You got that right."

"But…" Alexa couldn't ignore the hopeful tone in his voice, no matter how much she wanted to. Coupled with the brightness of his eyes and the tentative way he spoke, she deflated.

"Fine. But if he comes back with something more than a scrape or bruise, I'll do something dreadful to you in your sleep." Peter considered himself an intelligent man, and so restrained himself from chuckling at his wife's threat. But a small grin pulled at his lips in any case.

"I do hope that's a promise." She scoffed, and cuffed him in the arm.

"Ouch! Why must you always hit me?" he asked, rubbing his abused arm. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh please, you're such a child."

"Am not! You're slaps just hurt like hell!"

"It was a love tap!"

"Right, because that makes so much sense."

"I'm glad you see it my way."

"You know, one of these days…"

"What?" The question was more of a remark, which Peter had no proper answer for. In one look, he knew she did as well.

"I thought as much."


	2. Ignorance

**Summary: A series of one-shots circling the Chronicles of Narnia characters. Latest: Edmund is flustered. But he doesn't wish to request the help of his brother because...well, his brother wasn't the most perceptive when it came to the subject of women.**

**Warning: This collection will mostly include one-shots from the **_**Rising Above**_** universe, and the Peter/Alexa pairing. This chapter is set during year three of **_**The In Between Times**_**.**

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><p><em>~The Art of Conversation~<em>

Chapter Two: Ignorance

_The art of conversation is learning how to discern between ignorance and absent-mindedness. For then you can both respond, and act accordingly on what you were missing before._

Rays of orange light filtered through the trees of Lantern Waste as dusk began to settle in. The forest was quiet, just as the Just King preferred. The patter of Philip's hooves falling against the earth, coupled with the crickets softly making themselves heard, calmed him. He rode further, only stopping once the sound of rushing water met his ears. It encouraged him to pick up their pace slightly.

"It should be right around the corner, Philip," said Edmund.

"I hope so. My hooves are aching," the horse replied dryly. A small grin tugged on the King's mouth as they ventured through a clearing. And surely enough, they had made it to the river. It was technically a part of the Great River that had broken off, and twisted its own way into the Western Woods.

"See? I know this wood like the back of my hand," Edmund remarked. Philip only rolled his eyes and let out a horse's snort. Once they approached the bank, Edmund slid off and knelt to refill his flask.

"Your Majesty…" Philip began. His ears flicked back nervously, as did his tail swish back and forth. Edmund peered to look at his friend, and all at once he noticed it—the change in the air.

'_We are not alone_,' he thought. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging Philip. Then, he slowly rose from the ground. His eyes scanned the expanse of trees around them. They would have to be careful. For it could be another minotaur, or one of the wolves, like Mr. Tumnus had reported. It was why they had made the trip through the forest in the first place.

_There_. Just barely, between two large oaks near the riverbank, he caught a glimpse of movement. Edmund's hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he carefully stepped closer to Philip.

"I am King Edmund of Narnia. If you are in fact, Narnian, make yourself known." There was a veiled threat in the Just King's words, but if Philip was put on edge, it was likely that their watcher was an enemy. At the soft rustle of leaves to their left, Edmund quickly positioned himself accordingly.

He was surprised, however, when a slender, feminine hand slowly curled around a narrow tree. There was little difference in color between skin and bark. And as bare feet stepped out of the foliage, accompanied by light laughter, Edmund knew it was a dryad—a keeper of the forest. She grasped her skirts with one hand, and brushed away bracken colored strands of hair from her line of vision with the other. Every movement she made was methodical, and with seemingly effortless grace.

Finally, ashen eyes peered up at him, alight with thinly concealed amusement. Edmund felt his face grow warm in embarrassment. He sheathed his sword, clearing his throat.

"I am sorry, milady," he said, offering a respectful bow in apology.

"No apologies are needed, your Majesty. I believe it was I who was being rude." Her voice was deep and smooth, and held no edge. It only served to unsettle the Just King further.

"Well, I was only making my search for any fell beasts that might be lurking in the area. Have you come across any, per chance?" he asked tentatively.

"I'm afraid not. These woods have been quiet in recent days," she replied, her smile never faltering.

"Then, that is good news," Edmund said, somewhat uncertain of himself though he was. He glanced up at the darkening sky, and frowned. "I suppose it is getting late. I'll have to take my leave now, milady."

"Yes, the forest changes with the fall of night," she murmured. Her grin dropped for a moment, but it was renewed again with another look at the Just King. "I do apologize if I startled you."

Again, his cheeks colored with the reminder.

"Oh, don't worry, milady. You didn't startle me…please keep aware of the possible threat of fell beasts," he said as he climbed back onto Philip, who had been silently watching the entire exchange in amusement. Edmund urged the horse forward into a canter, leaving the dryad staring after them in their wake.

"That was odd," Edmund mumbled. He grasped the reigns a little bit more loosely, now that he wasn't so tense.

"_That_ was comical," Philip remarked. Edmund glanced down at Philip with a sardonic look.

"How so?"

"Watching King Edmund the Just, always so calm and collected, flustered and scrambling for words."

"I was not _scrambling for words_. She startled me, is all."

"You told her that she hadn't startled you…" Philip retorted. Edmund stayed silent. Philip uttered a laugh, which dissolved into a horse's neigh.

'_I didn't even ask her for her name_,' Edmund thought idly.

* * *

><p>"Edmund! There you are, finally!" Susan exclaimed. "It's already mid-morning. You should have been up hours ago." Edmund yawned, rubbing his tired eyes. He walked down the staircase, and met his waiting sister at the bottom.<p>

"Sorry, I didn't know I was being expected," he said wryly. He then mumbled his greetings to Alexa and his younger sister, who had been previously talking animatedly with the Gentle Queen.

"Idiot, don't tell me you forgot that it is Peter's birthday today," said Susan.

"We all agreed to prepare today for the party tonight," added Lucy. Edmund blanched.

"Of course I didn't." '_A lie, but what Pete doesn't know won't hurt him_.' He had remembered yesterday, and for the past week that it was coming. Peter's gift was already wrapped neatly upon Edmund's desk. This morning it had just slipped his mind.

"Great, so you wouldn't mind helping us set up the ballroom?" asked Alexa. What he wasn't planning on, however, was being roped into _this_.

"Wait, what is Peter doing?" Edmund questioned.

"That's a good point, what _is_ your brother doing?" Alexa turned to Susan, who nodded.

"He is in his study, as usual, looking over the daily reports. He should be in there for a couple of hours at least, but he knows we're throwing him a party."

"But Su, what he doesn't know is that we've invited practically half of Narnia and some from Archenland," Lucy commented.

"True," Susan replied, a grin spreading upon her features.

"Oh, he'll _love_ that," Edmund remarked.

"That's why we need to hurry and finish getting everything ready," said Alexa. Susan smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress, and clapped them once.

"Then let's stop dawdling. Edmund, please carry those. Alexa, you're fine. And Lucy, oh you have it."

The rest of the day was carried on busily, preparing for the nights festivities. Once in a while they would catch Peter peering around the corner, but eventually they managed to get everything done on time. Within the six o'clock hour, the Cair's ballroom was filled with joyous Narnians and honored guests from Archenland. All had come to celebrate the life of the High King.

"Edmund, why don't you join us on the dance floor?" asked Lucy. But the Just King was contenting himself by eating a tremendous plate of food. It was delicious, if he so thought himself. Lucy resisted a wince at her brother's less than adequate table manners (his mouth was wide open while he chewed—a pet peeve of both the Gentle, and Valiant Queen).

"No thank you, I'm sort of busy he—" the words died in his throat. His glance slid past his sister, to a small group of laughing young dryads. They were clustered around the collection of carnations at the end of the buffet table, only a few yards away from Edmund and Lucy.

Lucy looked at him quizzically, and turned. As she followed his line of vision, a rare smirk spread across her face. '_Oh, this is new_,' she thought.

"See someone you like?" The question startled him from his reverie, and he blinked in confusion.

"What?" he asked. But realization then hit him with a pang, and he blushed. "No! That's…"

"Did you make a lady friend recently, Ed?" she asked.

"No." His reply was a little too quick in her opinion.

"Why don't you just go talk to them? They're sure to listen to you."

"I don't need to. What are you suggesting?" Lucy sighed. '_Why do I have such stubborn brothers?_'

"I'll be right back." She made her way through the crowd of people, avoiding getting stepped on or bumped into. Finally she found her other brother, who had decided to take a rest from dancing to get a well-needed drink. '_Perfect_,' she thought.

"Hey Pete, enjoying you're seventeenth birthday?" Lucy asked. Peter turned at the sound of his sister's voice, and smiled.

"Thoroughly, though I was surprised by how many people you all invited," he replied. Lucy grinned.

"It was Su's idea. Listen, I need your help with something really quickly."

"What is it?"

"Well…"

* * *

><p>"So what's up, Ed?" Peter asked, taking a seat next to his little brother. Edmund looked up from his drink, and quirked a brow.<p>

"Nothing much, Pete. Having a good birthday?"

"Don't change the subject. I hear you have a lady friend," Peter said casually, though he couldn't force back his grin just well enough.

"I have no idea what you might be talking about, I assure you," Edmund replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Is it her?" Peter asked. Edmund followed the direction of Peter's pointed finger, and sighed as it made a direct hit. He watched as pale eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth, and the sound of familiar laughter reached his ears.

"She looks nice," Peter commented. Edmund gave him a droll look. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

"I wouldn't know the first thing to say. I don't even know her name."

"Well then, ask her."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because…because…" Peter grinned as his brother reached for a reply.

"Because nothing. Just have a simple conversation. Better yet, ask her to dance!"

"I can't do that! What if I say something wrong?"

"Just keep her laughing. Girls love a man who can make them laugh."

"And you know this how? You're not exactly what I would call an expert on the female kind."

"Are you kidding? How many noblewomen try to get me to court them every time we host an event like this?" This was true, though Edmund had seen first-hand how oblivious his brother could be when it came to members of the opposite sex. '_Oh fine, how badly could I screw up?_' he thought with a sigh.

"Wish me luck," he muttered as he walked away from Peter. '_Dear Aslan, please help me_.'

Peter watched in amusement as Edmund approached the lovely dryad. But he winced as Edmund tripped a bit on the way there, bumping into a dancing faun. '_Aslan, please help him_.'

"Hello, milady. I believe we meet again," Edmund greeted, and bowed to the young woman. She looked at him with thinly veiled surprise, but her smile was genuine as she curtsied in respect.

"Greetings, your Majesty," she said. Her voice was like soothing honey, he reflected, and decided he liked the sound of it.

"I must apologize, for when we first met, I never once asked for your name."

"No, I apologize, Sire. You so kindly introduced yourself, and I must admit that I forgot to offer mine as propriety would have asked." In this, she curtsied again deeply. "My name is Moira, my Lord." He smiled, in spite of his growing nervousness.

"You have a lovely name, Moira. Would you care to dance?" He offered his hand, his hope extended along with it. And after a moment's hesitation, she slipped her hand into his.

They danced through many of the songs, talking and laughing with each other until they grew exhausted. Their feet ached from the fast tempos of the music, and Edmund offered to get Moira her drink. He returned with two goblets of Narnia's richest wine, freshly crushed that morning. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of glancing to the side for only a second. Edmund tripped as Corin walked brusquely past him, cutting off his path. And the wine lurched out from the cups. He managed to catch himself, but looked up in shock. Edmund didn't even notice that the music had stopped.

Moira was drenched from head to toe in crimson liquid.

"I am _so_ sorry! Here, let me help you." He pushed past other shocked spectators, and grabbed a clean towel from a nearby servant. "There you go, this should help." Moira blinked, and tentatively grasped the cloth. Her jaw was firm, her entire body tense. He could tell that she was trying so hard not to show her anger, something he was grateful for. '_What was it that Peter said? Make her laugh? Hmm_."

"Well, now you're kind of like a naiad now," Edmund said, chuckling nervously.

Peter, who had been watching from several yards away (safely near the dais), slapped a hand over his face. '_Idiot_.'

Moira's eyes narrowed, and the hand clenched around the towel tightened marginally. Edmund swallowed.

"A naiad, am I?" He preferred not to answer that question.

"Um, let me get you something to eat. You must be hungry." He took the opportunity to make a mad dash to the buffet table, and to his relief, the music began to play once more. When he returned to her, he found Moira sitting at a table, squeezing the juice out of her skirts. '_Damn_,' he thought.

"Here you are. And again, I apologize _profusely_. I can't say I'm sorry enough," Edmund said, setting down the plate in front of her. After a moment of tense silence, Moira sighed. She took a fork and took a bite of food. But to Edmund's horror, her eyes widened, and the utensil dropped from her hand. She held a hand to her mouth, and began to choke. Edmund sprang into action, doing all he could to help her spit whatever it was that had made her react so violently. Finally, she coughed and spluttered, resting against the back of the chair.

"What in Aslan's name was _that?_" she asked incredulously between coughing fits.

"I-it was only some pork. I thought you would like it…" Moira blanched, and turned a sickly shade of chartreuse.

"You…you gave me…m-m-meat? From a previously l-l-living animal that could have been running through the woods of Lantern Waste just t-this morning?" she stammered. '_Oh, shit_,' he thought. She never made it outside to relieve the contents of her stomach.

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><p>"Come on, Ed. It…it wasn't <em>that<em> bad. She still won't talk to you, but give it a week or so."

"Oh, do shut up! I should have never listened to you in the first place!"

"…Would it help if I said that I'm sorry?"

"No, you're advice made it worse, too. _I knew it!_ I knew I shouldn't have listened to you. You're denser than I am when it comes to women. Hell, I wonder if it's just ignorance!"

"Wait, wait a minute. What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, don't worry, Pete. I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually."

"Hey, Ed! I know you're busy sulking, but could you do the servants a favor and help clean up the wine you spilled?"

"I'll be right there, Alexa."

"Oh, and Happy Birthday, Peter!"

"Thank you, Alexa." The Courageous Queen offered the High King one last smile before walking in the direction of her chambers. Peter looked after her for a second, before turning back his brother. A small grin was etched upon his face, one he couldn't quite erase.

Edmund shook his head, to which Peter quirked a brow.

"What?" '_Quite oblivious_.'


	3. Awkward

**Summary: A series of one-shots circling the Chronicles of Narnia characters. Latest: A month after returning to England, things are not quite the same between Peter and Alexa.**

_**Warning:**_** This chapter receives a definite T rating for suggestive themes and dialogue.**

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><p><em>~The Art of Conversation~<em>

Chapter Three: Awkward

_The art of conversation is avoiding the inevitable in a relationship, such as the "awkward moment," in which neither party can evade embarrassment._

_**Mid July**_

Alexa sighed, closing the book she was reading. She couldn't focus, and trying in vain to distract herself wasn't doing much of anything. She set the novel on her desk and arched her back in a stretch. The former Queen was grateful to Professor Kirke, who had allowed them to receive their own bedrooms shortly after their return through the Wardrobe. The country home was the size of a mansion and had enough rooms for the five.

"_Let's just say, living cramped will be an adjustment you all won't have to make while staying here,"_ he had said. But, in a large way it had been an adjustment—not sleeping in the same room or bed as her husband.

_I couldn't even get my wedding ring back_, she thought. But she knew now from the Professor that you could take nothing from the world of Narnia, unless it was blessed by Aslan himself.

"Knock, knock." Alexa turned to the sound of Peter's voice and gave a small smile as he walked through the doorway.

"Hey," she greeted. He approached her chair and leaned down slightly, as if to kiss her. But at the last moment he seemed to think better of it and kissed her cheek instead. Alexa hid her frown.

"Good evening," he said, slumping into a second chair.

"What have you been doing?"

"Nothing really. For once I'm tired of reading," he replied. "I came to see what you were doing."

She heaved another sigh.

"I can't seem to concentrate myself," she said. Alexa regarded him, resting the side of her head on her hand, which she leaned on the desk. Things had become…strange between them, as much as she was loath to admit it. They had been approaching their thirties, already happily married, and had a…child. She looked down at her hands folded on her lap.

_Just thinking of him strikes my heart_. Her eyes closed in memory, and she let out a deep, albeit shaky breath.

And suddenly, they were forced back into their teenage years. It was as if all of it had never happened.

_But we know it happened_, she rationalized. _We only have no proof_.

"Alexa, are you all right?" Peter asked. She woke from her reverie, and looked up to him.

"Yes…I'm fine," she responded.

"Hmm, I'm not sure I believe that." When she said nothing, Peter frowned. "Alexa?"

"Things are…unsettled between us," she said at last. The admission caught him off guard, to say the least.

"Unsettled? How do you mean?" Alexa scoffed.

"Oh, Peter. Don't pretend you haven't noticed. We don't exactly know how to act in one another's presence."

"I don't follow," he insisted, though he got up from the chair to come closer to her.

"Well…think about it. You don't find it strange that we were adults, married—"

"We're still married," Peter interrupted, his temper spiking. She had noticed his hold on his patience grew thinner as the weeks past—over their situation as of late, she was sure.

"Yes," she agreed slowly, and stood from her chair. In a placating gesture, she threaded her fingers in his, letting their conjoined hands fall between them. "But things are different now. Part of keeping Narnia hidden is…keeping our relationship hidden."

Peter frowned down at her. Under no circumstances did the thought agree with him.

"And how do you suppose we go about doing that?" he asked. His hands slipped out of hers and crossed over his chest.

"Well…it would obviously be strange if we went about saying we're married, with no papers and therefore no proof," Alexa said after a moment. "So, I suppose…we'll just have to say we fancy each other and leave it at that…at least until we turn the proper age."

"The proper age? I've seen boys our age run headfirst into war after marrying at eighteen years old," Peter pointed out.

"It's too soon, Pete. Think of how your parents would react," said Alexa. At this, Peter turned from her and sat heavily on the bed. "At the very least, they would say you were making a brash decision."

"Not if they got to know you," Peter said. His eyes softened when he looked at his wife, so very young again—even with the darkness under her eyes that told of the strife they'd shared in the past month. The corner of her mouth twitched upward as she caught his gaze. She stepped closer to him until she stood between his knees, and his hands reached up to meet her waist.

She marveled at his face, so changed yet the same; a strong jawline she loved to trace, rounded lips and the bluest of eyes that searched her as well. Her hands cupped his cheeks, gently pulled strands of his blonde hair from his face. He leaned against her touch as a small smile lit his features.

"You're still so beautiful," he said softly. An amused smile tugged at her lips.

"I wasn't before?"

"Well, I was fond of certain curves…"

She lightly smacked his chest as a laugh escaped her.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, but don't worry. You're still quite appealing," he assured. Her expression was skeptical.

"Somehow I don't believe you." Then his grin became mischievous as his hands wandered lower than the waistband of her skirt.

"Then let me show you."

No matter how tempted she actually was, alarm bells went off in her mind at the idea. She pressed a hand to his chest while giving him a knowing look.

"We just ate supper not fifteen minutes ago," she pointed out. Though they both knew this was only an excuse.

"…And?" Alexa pulled away, brushing down the wrinkles from her skirt. Peter followed as she made her way over to the small wardrobe by her bed. She pulled out the top drawer in search for the night dress she would wear later.

"Remember the last time we tried that? You had cramps for two hours." Peter felt his face burn.

" And who had to sleep it off, dissatisfied?" she asked. He then took on a look of mock disbelief.

"Oh, so you're not satisfied?" Grabbed by the waist, she yelped as she was lifted and tackled onto the bed. Alexa giggled, wading through sheets and pillows for escape. He, being stronger, pinned her wrists above her head and stole a kiss. One hand held her wrist while the other slowly trailed her side.

"We're only sixteen now, Pete. Are you sure we should we doing this?" she asked, rather breathlessly. His touch burned like fire along her ribcage and along the flesh exposed by the open collar of her blouse.

"We are married aren't we? You said so yourself." His voice tickled her ear and made her involuntarily shiver with delight, which she tried in vain to quash.

"But…" His lips scorched a trail up her neck and along her jawline.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked softly. She swallowed and peered over at the door, securely closed.

"Well…what if we're…erm…overheard?"

"Then don't make all the noise you usually do."

"Excuse me? I happen to be a passionate lover. It's not like I can _hold it back_." Peter sighed in exasperation and propped his elbow underneath himself. "And what about you, hmm? I'm sure they'll hear all the noise you'll be sure to make if the bed isn't bolted to the ground," she finished dryly.

"Alexa, really. They're probably all sleeping!"

"I know for a fact that Susan is a light sleeper. And Aslan forbid your brother next door hears us."

"Ah, Su and Ed know what we do!" Peter fanned one hand down, as if to dismiss the concern.

"What about Lucy, you want your little sister to be scarred for life?"

"…Lucy doesn't even know what sex _is!_"

"Oh, please. She was twenty four before we came back. You think she doesn't know?"

"…Um…good point." Alexa smirked in triumph. Sometimes she thought that they argued just for the sake of winning the argument.

"So…nothing then?"

"_Peter._"

"Are you saying you have no sexual desire at all?" he asked while looking down at her. The way they were pressed so closely to one another was driving him insane, but he could see by the look in her eyes and the way she shifted under his touch that it was having a similar effect on her. He leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth before hovering just over her ear. "Because you would be lying."

Her breath hitched, making him smirk, but in a smooth move she rolled them over so that she laid on top of his chest. It was her turn to smirk as she looked down at his surprised face.

"I have to be in the right mood," she said. Peter looked up at her knowingly.

"And I'm guessing you'll claim that isn't now."

"You guessed right," she teased, and quickly slid off of him until her feet touched the floor. He continued to lay there and groaned at the sight of her retreating form.

But Alexa couldn't find it in her heart to deny her husband…for long.

* * *

><p>…<strong>I never said the two of them were <strong>_**all**_** innocent. ^_^**


	4. Culpability

**Summary: A series of one-shots circling the Chronicles of Narnia characters. Latest: a conversation between the Courageous Queen and the young Telmarine prince that may just bridge the gap between suffering and forgiveness. **

**This one is set during my fanfiction called **_**Returning Home**_**, in which the time frame is stated within the actual one-shot. There's no humor in this one, just some hurt/comfort and angst that I thought was missing from RH. So, I decided on a whim of inspiration that I'd write this one up. If anyone has any requests for another chapter of this, feel free to suggest away.**

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><p><em>~The Art of Conversation~<em>

Chapter Four: Culpability

_The art of conversation is learning the difference between guilt and resentment, and discerning whether the object of such emotions deserves the consequences of either one._

She didn't want him here, and he knew it. She could read it clearly in his eyes, yet he sat down beside her anyways. Their view from the ledge of the wide expanse of grass and woodland before them was dimmed by the shadows of the overcast sky. She had merely inclined her head slightly when he'd asked to sit, and drew a silent breath of Narnian air in an attempt to relax.

The mere sight of him rekindled angry emotions that had only recently been buried skin-deep, and so many painful memories—ones that hadn't always been but now only brought misery, and those from her bleakest days that only continued to resurface.

"It is cold out here…your Majesty," he said, glancing over at her. "You don't have a coat."

She restrained the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'll manage," she responded curtly.

He frowned, and said, "I apologize…"

She gathered he meant it for more than just politeness' sake, and wondered what exactly it was he was "apologizing" for. Though she knew it wouldn't be for what she imagined, the thought of an apology from him curdled her stomach; it was a mockery of the initial injustice in itself, simply because _it would not be enough_. No matter how sorry he was, it would not change _anything_, no matter how much her heart and irrational mind screamed _vengeance_.

"What possibly for?" she asked coolly, trying to keep her exhaustion out of her tone. It was more than physical, but encompassed the heavy taxing of emotional turmoil she'd endured for—really, the past year, but more recently—the past half hour.

"_Ever since we came…" She looked down for a moment, and shook her head in dismay before gazing at him again. "You've __changed__."_

"_I don't know what you're talking about," he denied._

"_You honestly can't see it? How you're tearing your family apart?"_

It was an argument that had been inevitable, snowballing from large problems and terrible reactions, but one that she deeply regretted. She had the weight of her own guilt on her shoulders, and had come out into the fresh air for a bit of silence and time for her to sort out her own thoughts. But she was rudely interrupted by the root of many of her problems, the one who represented the family line that had destroyed whatever future her son could have had without her. He could have had a happy life, ruled in peace until his time ended and his successors continued the family line, but he'd been cruelly murdered before he'd even had the chance to begin.

"_You invaded my __home__, which I have dedicated my __life __to protecting. You tried to __annihilate __my people, for who I have also taken solemn oaths to protect and care for. And…and you have murdered my __son__, a __King __of Narnia. You have no more right to be here than __Miraz __does. You, him, your __father__—Narnia was better off without the lot of you."_

At the time she hadn't wanted to hear the words come from Peter's mouth, but now she saw them for the truth they were.

"Well…for many things, what I almost did in the chamber is one."

"You mean almost resurrecting one of the single most terrible beings that has ever walked the earth, all because our idea didn't work?"

When he didn't readily respond, she finally turned her head to him and met his ashamed eyes with her piercing stare.

"Tell me, prince, have you ever ruled a country?" she asked coldly. Caspian looked down a bit.

"…No, Queen Alexa, I have not."

"Have you ever felt the pressure of being in command over those who look to you for guidance, who would follow you into battle and pay for it with their very lives? Have you ever felt the burden of making a heinous mistake, and have to live with it afterwards?"

She didn't press for a reply when the prince fell silent. The point was made.

"You may be able to recognize others' mistakes, but you are young. You've never had to make a real decision in your life," said Alexa. "We may look your age, but we have lived a lifetime of rule and responsibility, of weighing pros and cons with every decision—of caring for the Narnians the best we could with everything we had."

Especially Peter. His burden was much harder than any of theirs, and it was no wonder to Alexa now that she saw how the loss of it all had affected him. He had acted out of anger and frustration, and it had cost them dearly. This she recognized. More than anything, however, she wanted to reconcile with her husband and be able to erase the guilt she harbored, but she knew she couldn't go to him now.

_Perhaps it's what I should be doing, but my body won't let me_, she reflected dryly. For now she directed her angry emotions elsewhere, but perhaps it wasn't fair of her to judge this…Prince Caspian, who at his age, she'd barely known Narnian culture, much less how to govern it.

"I know my youth betrays me…" he said, wisely not commenting further on Peter's actions where the raid was concerned. "But I know I can help you defeat my uncle."

"And why would you want to?" Alexa snapped in return. "Is he not your family?"

"He may be," began Caspian, his expression turning dark. "But what he has done to me cannot be forgiven or redressed."

Alexa could have laughed if the situation would have held any mirth besides the irony.

"Well, isn't that something we have in common, then," Alexa said sardonically, though her words had an edge that didn't go unnoticed by Caspian, who regarded her with a wide-eyed gaze.

"Forgive me if I am wrong, but does it not seem at all hypocritical to you to defend a man who stood for all the carnage and destruction your family has caused within this nation for generations and generations?" Alexa asked, her voice raising with the strain of reigning in her emotions. She could read the anger and hurt in Caspian's eyes as well, but she pushed down the pinprick of guilt to finish what she had to say.

"Miraz only continued the theme and pattern of your family's rule that began with the cold murder of my son," she spat, making the prince flinch in shame, "all so you could be born in the luxury bought upon the _blood _of my people."

Caspian was shocked into silence, utterly shamed by the forceful truth the queen had so bluntly and furiously spoken. But he couldn't keep silent for long without stating his peace, no matter how sorry he was for everything she and the other Kings and Queens of Old had lost and suffered.

"There are no words that I could utter…that could express my sincerest apologies and shame of my own heritage, of my own family…I had always thought my father was a noble man, and now I will never know for sure," said Caspian. "But while I realize my apologies will never restore what you've lost or take away the pain, would you still hold me responsible for the transgressions of my ancestors, even if I have never shed innocent blood myself?"

This made Alexa pause.

Her brows knitted together as her lips pursed, and while her rational and ethical mind screamed the contrary, her heart couldn't help but selfishly place the blame upon his head.

_It was _his_ family, and here is our chance for justice, yet we still haven't taken it. We could easily hold him for ransom,_ she thought.

But he was right, his youth did betray him.

He was no older than Peter, no less stubborn, but much less confident. He knew how to wield a sword, but had not the look of one who had taken a life. He was a young man, still not fully outgrown of the boyhood she could still read in his face and manner, but had the promise to make a fine leader. A leader of men, with an honest heart—something she had not seen in his uncle, but had seen in Peter and Edmund so many years ago.

_This is why we must defeat Miraz_, Alexa realized. _Aslan has chosen him to be our successor._

Alexa considered Caspian for a long moment in which neither spoke. He watched her patiently, though warily while she thought. Eventually, however, she let out a breathy, humorless chuckle.

"No, I suppose I cannot condemn you…you've demonstrated that you're different from your uncle, though the Narnians still need proof," she said. He regarded her with wide eyes, clearly taken aback.

"But…h-how could they ever…trust me?" She understood his double meaning: "how could _we_, as the Kings and Queens, ever trust him to lead our people."

"By your actions. You've been given an opportunity not many are given in their lifetime."

"And what is that?"

"To redeem yourself, and your people," she replied simply. "I can't hold you responsible for the wrongs that have been done to me and my family personally, but the Narnians could, if they wished, hold you responsible for their forced exile."

Caspian let out a deep breath, processing the queen's words.

"What you decide to do with the responsibility once it's yours is, of course, entirely up to you," she finished.

Caspian nodded, and for a while the two sat in a relatively easy silence, watching the landscape before them. Eventually, the prince stood and looked down at the queen he had gained a new respect for.

"For what it's worth, I am truly sorry for your loss. But the only way I could think to repay you for your kindness is to do what you suggested," he said.

Alexa peered up at him curiously, an unvoiced question in her gaze.

"To lead by action and example, and restore balance where there can be."

She hesitated only a moment before allowing a small, genuine smile to grace her features. As he turned and entered the Howe once more, Alexa couldn't help but stare after him for a few more seconds before turning back to the wood before her.

_I suppose even resentment is a matter of perspective_, she thought.


	5. Irrational

**Summary: A series of one-shots circling our favorite characters. Latest: It is said that the poetry of a people comes from the deep recesses of the unconscious, the irrational and the collective body of our ancestral memories. One Queen is beginning to see the truth in it. **

**The idea for this one had been written down in my mind for a while, but was filed away until I had the time to run with it. For those of you who have read **_**The In Between **_**Times, it's set around the fourth year in their reign, or between chapters four and five, if you will. This is sort of the aftermath of the events in Ettinsmoor. **

**I credit the quote in the summary to Margaret Walker, an excellent American poet and writer.**

* * *

><p><em>~The Art of Conversation~<em>

Chapter Five: Irrational

_The art of conversation is discerning whether one's irrational thoughts and actions correlate with rational fears and, perhaps with the help of another, begin to conquer them. _

_She was falling. _

_Falling and screaming._

_Falling for miles, even when her back met something as hard as stone. Still she slid downward as the hole of light above became smaller and smaller until there was only darkness. Only then did she stop in her descent, so painfully that she could swear all of her bones were shattered. There, in the middle of darkness, a coldness seeped from all corners into her body, far worse than any wind that had nearly swept them away in the mountains. So cold that it burnt from within, though all she could do was remain still. Any attempt at movement was agony, and she couldn't see a thing. _

"_You are a Daughter of Eve._"

_The voice was one and hundreds, soft yet gravel and stone, both a hiss and the crack of a whip against tender flesh. It awakened such a fear, gripping her heart with icy claws and squeezing until it became hard to breathe. Her eyes darted to and fro, though her eyes found nothing in the darkness._

"_W-Who…who are you?" Her own voice was trembling and weak._

"_I am…" the voice was a heave of a sigh, while grating and raking over her ears. _

"_I am…what hunts you in the night…"_

"_Please…" _Please don't hurt me_, she thought, wanting to cover ears but not being able to even lift her hands, or see where they were. Tears began to stream down her face and to the hard ground below._

"_I am what dwells in your shadow, waiting, always…"_

"_Please, let me go!" _

"_I have waited long enough…"_

* * *

><p>She woke screaming.<p>

Loud enough for Susan to come running in to the bedchamber, a candle in hand and her robe half on and slipping over one shoulder. One wide-eyed look at her friend, hysterical and sobbing in the middle of her bed, and the Gentle Queen was hastening to her side, stepping over the blankets and pillows strewn on the floor. She was also mindful to leave the candle on the end-table before climbing onto the bed.

Susan swept the girl's unruly hair from her face and hushed her in soothing tones, wiping her tears and holding her close.

"It's all right, Alexa, it was just a dream," Susan soothed as the other queen cried into her nightgown, occasionally sniffling and hiccupping when her breath caught in her throat. "You're safe now, dear…look, Edmund and Peter are here. Nothing can harm you."

Susan's gaze met her brothers', who stood tentatively at the door. Both appeared battle-ready while barefoot and in their pajamas. One held a fire iron while the eldest held a long knife that looked suspiciously like one of a set that was mounted decoratively on his wall (a gift from the king of Archenland on the young man's eighteenth birthday). At seeing no intruder, they entered the room with twin looks of confusion and concern.

"It…was _dark_, was—it was…" Alexa's breaths were short and wheezing, though she held onto Susan tightly as she buried her face into the younger queen's shoulder.

"Shh, it's all right now. Calm down first before you tell us," said Susan. Her heart filled with pity for the girl, and with her eyes she beckoned her brothers over, silently communicating that it was all right to come closer. Peter was the first to draw near.

He picked up a blanket off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, in front of the two girls, and draped it around Alexa the best he could. Edmund crawled up from the other side. Narnian beds, especially for royalty, were exceptionally large and rose to nearly four feet off the ground.

Edmund laid a hand on Alexa's back in a brotherly gesture.

"What happened?" Susan asked, when Alexa had calmed enough for her breathing to even out. She leaned back from Susan's embrace and stared at the deep wine color of her sheets, at the swirling patterns of trees and curling vines in gold thread. Curling, spiraling down, down, down…

_The hole of light above became smaller and smaller until there was only darkness._

She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head repeatedly, wishing away the vision even as the sounds returned to her. Screaming, a voice that had no name or face, a fate she would not be able to escape…

"Alexa." This voice was firm and familiar, and broke through the vision like a blade through glass, its fragments shattering and bringing her back to herself. Her eyes opened and met dark blue, calm and filled with concern and worry. But the hand that held hers was warm and gentle, and grounded her to what was real.

"It was…a dream," she said, her voice a coarse whisper. Relief brought hot tears to her eyes, and she swallowed. "It didn't feel like one…"

"It's okay," said Peter. He smiled and covered both of their hands with his, cradling hers like something fragile. "Do you…want to talk about it?"

She thought about it. Sighed shakily. "Honestly, I don't remember much…just that it was dark, and unbelievably cold…and _terrible_."

"You don't have to try too hard to remember," said Edmund, who squeezed her shoulder. She turned and gave him a small, grateful smile.

"Do you want to try and go back to sleep?" asked Susan. Alexa's smile fell.

"…No," she answered, and even Susan could see her eyes were still slightly glazed with fear, her forehead and neck with perspiration, her cheeks still flushed.

"We can stay with you then," the Gentle Queen offered. But after a moment, she amended, "or I can. You boys I know are busy tomorrow."

"It's only some paperwork and a council meeting in the afternoon," said Peter, surprising all of them. "What?" he asked at their incredulous looks.

"You're not usually one to suggest shirking executive duties," Edmund pointed out frankly. Peter's mouth twitched upwards in an amused smile.

"Is that so?" he said. When his gaze landed on each of his siblings, and then Alexa, he continued in a softer voice, "I think this once we'll manage."

She looked down shyly, trying to hide both her surprise and a small smile.

"What's going on in here?" said a groggy voice. They turned to the door and saw Lucy standing there in a pink robe and matching slippers. "I heard some loud noises from all the way down the hall."

"My fault, Lu," said Alexa with an apologetic smile. "I had a…well, a pretty loud dream."

Lucy waved a hand and crawled onto the bed with them.

"That's all right," she mumbled and stole one of the pillows toward the end of the comforter. She curled up by Peter's side and dropped her head onto the pillow. In a few moments, they could hear her light snoring.

"Well, why don't we go downstairs and see if we can fix ourselves a late night snack," Susan suggested quietly, though she was unable to contain an amused smile at her younger sister's antics.

"Oh, please let it be milk and cookies," Edmund pleaded upward as he slid off the bed. The other three did the same and tiptoed out the door, closing it softly behind them as the Valiant Queen continued storing peacefully.

* * *

><p>After that night, Alexa felt terrible for having woken up her friends at the unholy hour of three in the morning. Most of them woke between six and eight, early risers that they were (Edmund not by choice). Despite their protests of being completely fine after staying up with her for four more hours, drinking hot chocolate and eating chocolate chip cookies and playing card games, all of them had been rather slow once lunch came around.<p>

"_This will only happen once_," she had assured them.

She hadn't told them these nightmares had been a recurring terror. Ever since she and Peter returned from their expedition in the mountains a week ago, she hadn't had a night's peace. Last night had been the worst, yet she only remembered bits and pieces. Alexa had a feeling that had been the pinnacle of it all. She would get over them soon enough.

_All I need is to eat earlier before going to bed, maybe take a warm shower to relax, light some scented candles…_

That sounded nice just thinking about it. And she took her own advice by supping around five instead of the customary six to seven in the evening. She drank herbal tea with an hour-long bath and reading in the study with Edmund until around nine o'clock, when she retired for bed.

Upon dressing in her nightgown and getting comfortable, she hesitated when it came time to blow out the candles.

_I've slept in darkness all my life, I'm not about to quit now_, she thought determinedly. She'd left them on the first few nights, and it hadn't changed anything. But…on second thought…it didn't hurt to keep a few on. As she crawled into bed, she prayed for Aslan to sooth her mind and nerves.

* * *

><p>"<em>Please, let me go!" <em>

"_I have waited long enough…"_

_The darkness cleared just enough for her to see an impossibly long, impossibly large creature with no distinct shape. It wore a black cloak that was in tatters, curling and dissipating and taking shape in wisps and coils. _

"_What…what are you?" she asked. Its head raised just enough for her to see its face._

Her breathing was ragged as she sat up from the bed, eyes haunted and wild as sweat dripped down her back and beaded across her forehead. She hastened out of bed to light a candle as her breaths began to come out in short, panicked gasps. The others she left on had gone out.

When the orange flame illuminated some of the room around her, she calmed a bit. Her writing desk came into view, along with the paintings and half-finished embroideries and stationary and other knickknacks. Her wardrobe, vanity with drawers for jewelry and other fineries. Her little blue rocking chair with an embroidered cushion she liked to lay back and read on, or sketch. It all rooted her to some kind of clarity of mind.

Alexa sat heavily on the bed with a sigh. She set the candle down and rested her elbows on her thighs, her head in her violently shaking hands and over her tired eyes. She couldn't go back to sleep now. She refused.

_This can't continue_, she thought. _I can't see it over and over again. It'll kill me._

It wasn't a pleasant alternative, but it would have to do.

She simply wouldn't go to sleep.

* * *

><p>"Telmar wishes to raise the price in their exotic fruits and spices," said Tumnus. "They think it is only fair after our ship crashed into their port."<p>

"Is it not enough that we fully reimbursed them for repairs?" asked Peter. "Now they must resort to this?"

"They cannot afford to refuse trade with us," Edmund pointed out. "They glean most of their support from Calormen."

"But remember it is part of the Calormen Empire. They might just push back if we force their hand," Susan reminded.

"How much is the raise in price?" Peter said, but before the faun could answer, snoring could be heard from the end of the table. There they saw Alexa, her elbow on the table with her head leaning resting against her hand. Her eyes were closed, and while her snoring wasn't loud, it was enough to disrupt the council meeting. Susan regarded her pityingly, but rested a hand on her shoulder all the same and lightly shook her. Alexa's eyes snapped open, and as she took in her surroundings, she apologized profusely whilst rubbing the sleep from her face.

"Are you all right?" asked the High King. And she nodded affirmatively.

"Yes, I'm so sorry. That was incredibly improper of me," she answered quickly and pinching the bridge of her nose. Peter looked at her dubiously.

"Are you sure?" By the tone is his voice and the look in his eyes, Alexa knew he suspected the cause of her interruption.

"Please, Peter, I'm fine. Proceed with the meeting," she insisted. He sent one more searching look her way before continuing.

"Ah…oh! The new price, what is it, Master Tumnus?" All the while, Alexa made it her mission to keep her eyes open for the next half hour until they were adjourned.

That was the morning of the second day without sleep, but she thought she was doing pretty well, considering. If she didn't sleep, there wouldn't be nightmares to worry about and wake up in a cold sweat over. Not to mention, no one else would be bothered by her either.

* * *

><p>Peter knew there was something wrong.<p>

He could see it in her eyes when she passed him in the hallway, in the slight stoop to her shoulders. He saw it when she sat at the table, using the chair and the end of the table to ease herself into the seat. He could see it in her attitude. Just this morning she had snapped at Lucy.

_Peter sipped a cup of lemonade and watched from the veranda as his sister and his friend worked in the garden. He didn't think it wise, for how tired she seemed lately. Not to mention the wound on her arm, which was healing relatively quickly, but was still something to treat with care. But she'd said she was determined to get something done today._

"_Oh, wait, Alexa. I thought we said that one goes to the left, not the right," Lucy said, pointing to the red flower the Courageous Queen held by the base of the stem._

"_I think I would remember, Lu," she said. The annoyance in her demeanor was obvious, but Lucy was looking down at a piece of color-coded paper._

"_But look, we wrote it down here—"_

"_They're just damn plants, not—" The older girl made a noise of frustration and stood. "I don't have time for this, I have better things to do." She haphazardly took of her gloves and threw them at Lucy's feet before making her way inside the Cair. _

_Peter looked on incredulously, then got up at went to Lucy._

"_What was that?" he asked her. She shook her head._

"_She's been on edge recently. Just yesterday she yelled at Ed for barely bumping into her. I don't know what's gotten into her…" _

Well, Peter would find out. So far he hadn't seen her, but it was still early afternoon. Eventually he would catch up to her after he finished his daily dose of paperwork. He internally groaned at the thought.

But he became worried when she didn't come to dinner in the evening. It was unlike her to ever miss a meal, though recently she'd taken to pushing it around her plate rather than taking a bite. When asked, she swore by her own grave that she was fine. Peter wasn't as dumb as she'd like to think he was, and neither were his siblings. Susan had offered to find her and straighten things out, but Peter interceded. He had a feeling he knew what the problem was, and its cause.

* * *

><p>"<em>What…what are you?" she asked. Its head raised just enough for her to see its face.<em>

_It was elongated and gaunt—an undead corpse whose eyes were hollowed, unseeing pits. Taut, grey skin wrinkled over jagged claws. They were serrated and sharp, like several knives that reached out and though she screamed and screamed and tried to move, those claws sunk into her chest. They stabbed deeper and pinned her where she lay, bleeding and still screaming._

"_I am…" The voice was a whirlwind over her screams. It shook her and shook her until she thought nothing would be left—_

Her eyes snapped open. For a moment, she couldn't hear anything. As if the world was drowned out in blue waters, for that was what she saw. Blue. Dark blue eyes, and golden hair. She blinked and suddenly sound rushed into her ears.

"_It's all right, it's all right…it's over…"_

_But it waits for me. Always. _

"_I'm with you now…"_

_It lives in my shadow. It _is_ a shadow._

"…P-Peter?" she dared to whisper, though her voice cracked. His hands cupped her cheeks, wiped her tears with his thumbs, pulled strands of hair behind her ear and out of her line of vision. "Yes," he said with a sad smile. "Alexa, you should have told me."

She didn't realize she was holding tightly to his tunic until she rocked into his waiting embrace. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks, but she ignored them in favor of pressing her face into his chest and tightly holding onto him. She shook her head as she cried.

"I didn't…want…to worry you," she said in between heaves of breath. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and rubbing a soothing hand over her hair and down her back.

"I think it's a bit late for that," he said dryly, and she choked a sob. "When did you start having nightmares about the trip to Ettinsmoor?"

She paused briefly, wondering how in the hell he _knew_. He seemed to notice her hesitation, and answered, "How could it be anything else?"

"True," she replied tremulously, and pulled back until they were sitting comfortably facing each other. Alexa looked up and he smiled gently. He reached up and tugged a strand of her hair teasingly, making her smile in return. Though hers became strained when she thought of why they were there, in the library, on a couch. She really thought it would only be a short rest of her eyes.

She sighed.

"Well, only a couple days after we returned, actually," she admitted. "After a while, I tried to stop sleeping." She nodded at the _look_ he was giving her. "Yes, I know. Pretty stupid on my part, but…I wasn't thinking rationally."

Peter nodded slowly in comprehension.

"So…do you want to tell me what they're about?" he asked. At her hesitance, he gently took her hands in his. She looked up and realized this would probably be the only person who would understand.

"It's more or less the same dream each night. And it begins with the fall."

She proceeded to tell him the whole terrible tale from the beginning, stopping periodically for deep breaths and his calming reassurances. Peter listened with rapt attention, never letting go of her hands even as they shook. His suspicions were confirmed as she began the description of the wraith from their tumble down the hole in the ground. Even he had a few nightmares of the creature after almost being _eaten_ by it. But Alexa, for all her cleverness in books and study and her aptness in learning the ways of battle, she was a gentle woman. A gentle woman who had the penchant for keeping her emotions and struggles hidden.

It bothered him to no end that she hadn't trusted them enough to simply _tell _them she had a problem. It angered him that he and the rest of his siblings hadn't seen the pattern sooner. But with so many things within the castle to take care of, they forgot about someone they treated and viewed as family.

So that night, he escorted her to her room. Even accepted her offer of coming inside to play cards for a while after changing into more comfortable clothes. But after two candle marks, he noticed how late it was actually getting. His siblings had been heading to bed by the time they arrived in the East Wing where all their chambers were. They had all bid him and Alexa goodnight, and took Peter at his word that they had resolved the issue. Alexa apologized to them for her recent behavior, to which the others easily waved aside.

"Peter, it's getting late. If you're tired, you should go to bed," said Alexa. He gave her a reluctant look, though he had to agree. He _was _tired from a busy day. But if _he_ was tired, how must _she_ feel after three days of virtually no sleep?

"But what about you?" he asked. She shrugged.

"I'll…well, I'll manage," she said, then stood and gestured for him to do so as well. He obliged and shot her an amused look.

"Well, until the morning, my lady," he said, and gave an exaggerated bow. She laughed and returned it with a curtsy of her own, even in her robe and nightgown. But when he turned and headed toward the door, the fear gripped her. Fear of what lied beyond the shadows of her mind, and what would surely return if she closed her eyes.

Peter honestly didn't want to leave her alone, knowing she was scared and still plagued by her memories of Ettinsmoor. But he knew for propriety's sake, he must leave. It wouldn't do, to stay with her just the two of them overnight. Even on their expedition they'd had separate tents.

"W-Wait…" Her voice stopped him from twisting the door's handle. He looked over his shoulder at her. A piece of him broke at the sight of her utterly lost expression, her eyes wide and haunted by visions they'd both seen.

"Yes, my lady?" he asked softly. She paused, her gaze flitting between his face and the floor, and back again.

"Will…will you…" she stopped and looked down at her folded hands, bit her lip. Familiar calloused hands grasped hers, and she looked up. Peter smiled down at her hopeful, yet embarrassed face.

"I will stay with you," he promised.

"…Thank you," she said. Alexa breathed a sigh and let her forehead fall forward, into his chest. She couldn't see his smile, but she could feel the light press of his lips on the top of her hair. After a few more moments, she pulled away and crawled onto the right side of the bed. When she looked back she frowned.

"What are you doing?" she asked. Peter froze, his hand hovering over the armrest of the rocking chair.

"Um…I was about to sit."

"You won't be comfortable there."

"But…"

"Peter, there's enough room on this bed for five people."

"I-I just…thought you would have wanted your space."

Alexa fixed him with a peevish look. He raised his hands in a placating manner and warily stepped over to the left side of the bed. After she was already under the covers and comfortable, he took off his slippers and slid in next to her. Granted there was about three feet between them, he still felt uncomfortable. They were laying in a bed. Together.

_She _is_ like family_, his mind reminded him. _Come on, she's like another sister._

Then he realized Alexa had taken off her robe, leaving only a thin, white nightgown that he was pretty sure was satin. It laced down the front loosely, and didn't leave much to the imagination.

_Stop it!_

"Are you okay?" she asked. She'd rolled over so she was facing him, tucking her arm over the lace and under her cheek as her head was cushioned by the pillow. Her light brown eyes were bright, nearly amber while catching on candlelight. Long curls of her hair fell over her shoulder and around her waist. It was a sight that made his breath catch unexpectedly.

"No, no, I mean yes. I'm fine," he said, and played off his nerves by facing her and propping his head in his hand while his elbow rested on the pillow under him.

"Because you're lying on top the covers."

He looked down and realized she was right. He mentally kicked himself and pulled the sheets from under him, mindful not to pull up the portion already covering her body.

"Peter, do you think fear is irrational?" Her question surprised him, to say the least. He regarded her silently for a moment, taking in her pensive look.

"No, not all fears," he replied. Her brown eyes bore into his for the longest time, so long he almost could have sworn hours had passed. Finally, her mouth parted.

"I'm tired of being afraid when I don't need to be," she confessed. Her voice was a mere whisper, but it echoed loud and clear within his ears.

"Not a long time ago, I made you a promise…I intend to keep it," he said.

"_Whether you like it or not, I promise to protect you."_

She would always remember.

"Especially if it's from your fears."

She smiled at him then, so much so that her eyes crinkled at the corners. It made him feel warmer than the cotton blankets.

"Goodnight," she said.

_Thank you._

"Goodnight."

_Always._

Alexa rolled over and, smiling to herself, she allowed her eyes to close.

* * *

><p>"<em>I am…" The voice was a whirlwind over her screams. "I am what takes you in the NIGHT…"<em>

_The Wraith bent over her and opened its mouth, displaying a wide set of needle-like teeth, set in rows upon rows. It sucked in air as its husks for eyes glowed. She looked up to see if she could glimpse a last bit of light before she met her end. At first, she saw nothing. _

_Then the sky opened, like a tear in paper, and a beam of the sun's rays bore down on them both. The creature shrieked as it began to burn him, the sound of it like a hiss of steam. The fissure opened wider, letting in even more light. The Wraith tried in vain to escape. Eventually it was caught by the sun's wrath and fell to the blackened ground below. Its robes dissolved and its grey body decayed until a frail skeleton was all that remained, before that too became ash upon the wind. _

_The light washed over her, a healing balm to her many injuries. She slowly got to her feet when she felt able enough, and continued looking up. The clouds were there, but did not block the sun. The sun itself called down to her, beckoning her home. _

_The pile of debris leading up to the hole hollowed out, forming a sort of staircase that she was all too willing to follow. It was a fast climb to the top, where the sun met her with its beautiful warmth._

Alexa awoke to the best feeling in the world. Blissful peace.

And strong arms that cradled her against something very warm and welcoming. She almost jumped when she noticed the breath she felt against the back of her neck though. Upon looking down, she found one arm that was securely wrapped around her stomach with her hand laced through his. Her other arm was shoved underneath her pillow while his supported her head. Part of her wanted to tear out from his grasp and slap him upside the head for taking advantage of her in her sleep, while a much larger part of her was content where it was, and wanted to continue sleeping.

_This is so improper on so many levels, I wouldn't even be able to begin. _

But it was…nice. Very nice…and very warm. And…not much of her was protesting at being in the arms of her High King.

_You barely hugged before this month, _the more rational part of her brain spoke up.

Something had changed. What, she could not be certain as of yet, but…

_But this needs to end before one of his siblings walks in._

* * *

><p>Peter woke to soft humming.<p>

It took him a while to become fully conscious, but when he finally opened his eyes, he remembered where he was. He looked over and found Alexa, already dressed in a deep blue gown and sketching on a pad of paper. Her foot gently moved the rocking chair she sat in back and forth, and she was humming herself a tune.

For the next few minutes, he simply watched her. Every once in a while she would lightly bite the pencil eraser while her eyes narrowed in thought. Soft waves of black would slowly fall into her line of vision until she brushed them back in annoyance. Tap the pencil on her chin. Stop humming to erase. Start humming again. It was somehow entrancing.

Eventually, she looked up, met his unabashed gaze with embarrassment.

"Morning," she said hesitantly. "I didn't want to wake you right away…it's still early."

"That's all right," he said. Then belatedly, "You have a pretty voice."

It took a moment for her eyes to widen in realization, then lower in embarrassment once more.

"Thank you," she said quietly, hiding her small smile.

"What time is it?" he asked, and sat up. She thought about it.

"Around eight. I woke about an hour ago." He smiled and pushed the covers away as he stood.

"That means you slept," he said hopefully.

_It had taken him a while to fall asleep, though he heard Alexa drift off beside him. Once he stopped letting his mind wander long enough for him to close his eyes, the world around him eventually began to fade away. Unfortunately, that was when he felt the bed jostle under him. Peter looked over and saw the Courageous Queen's face contorted in distress, accompanied by small, panicked cries. Her name fell from his lips as he reached over and touched her shoulder. She recoiled and turned over on her side, away from him and curling in on herself. _

_He hesitated, unsure of what to do next. But upon hearing the sound of crying in her sleep, he slid across the bed over to her side. Tentatively, he shushed her and gently grasped her arms. When she cried out again and moved to get away from him, he slipped his arms around her waist before she rolled off the side of the bed. He continued to whisper soothing things into her ear until he hardly remembered what he was saying, all while holding her shuddering form nestled against him. Peter smiled when her breathing slowed and her tears stopped. Only when she relaxed against him did he relax as well. After he sighed and allowed his head to fall back against the pillow, there wasn't much else to remember. _

She nodded, and a true smile stretched across her face.

"And it was a...a good dream." Peter paused in his attempt to straighten out his clothes, then regarded her with a bright smile.

"Do you remember it?"

"Sort of…not really," she admitted. He sighed shook his head, but his smile never left.

"I guess it doesn't matter, as long as it was good."

Alexa nodded her agreement.

"Listen, I need to get ready for the day," he said. "But I'll see you at breakfast?"

"Definitely." And she would be eating it, too.

He gave her a parting look before reaching for the door.

"And Pete?" she called. The young man turned at the sound of her voice, and enjoyed the sight of her tender smile.

"Thank you." He returned it wholly.

"Always, my lady."

The door clicked behind him and Alexa sighed. She looked down at her sketch pad. It wasn't much, but her view of the sun through parted clouds will forevermore be golden.

For him, it would be the sight of eyes drawn by candlelight.

* * *

><p><strong>Some unabashed fluffage for those of you who miss this pairing. Thoughts? Suggestions? Requests? Feel free to let me know!<strong>


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